


Full-Term

by pontmercy44



Series: Parenthood [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, and Strangers, but there is a happy ending, marriage is hard, sequel to Unexpected, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pontmercy44/pseuds/pontmercy44
Summary: Ben looked at the gorgeous creature sitting across the kitchen table. She’d propositioned him in a completely unsexy way. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, and, permanently, dark circles. They were both exhausted. If she had her way, in nine months, they’d be even more exhausted. Still, the idea of scattering his spreadsheets and taking her straight to bed was appealing – even if they were getting naked because she was ovulating and not because she was feeling particularly frisky. “You want another baby?”“I want another baby.” Rey bit her lip, in the way that always enticed him. “And I know you want a boy.”





	Full-Term

**Author's Note:**

> See A/N below for content warning.

Hanna and Cary’s bedtime routines had been perfected. Ben ran the baths while Rey washed the dishes. Matching pajamas were rooted out of the dresser. Hanna brushed her teeth – under supervision – while Cary had her last bottle of the evening. By eight o’clock, one parent was in each room. Inevitably, Hanna whined for Daddy. When she’d had her bedtime story and her kisses, Mommy and Daddy switched places. Unbeknownst to the girls, in the hallway, as they passed each other, they kissed, briefly, on the mouth.

Usually, by the time Rey left Hanna’s room, Ben was already in the living room, hunched over his laptop. Cary had always been a good sleeper. Ben would kiss her downy head, check the baby monitor, shut the door, and then get a beer and some spreadsheets to work on. When Hanna was finally asleep, Rey would curl up on the couch with a book, or go to bed early, pecking him on the top of the head first.

It was a routine that, as repetitive and unglamorous as it was, was as comforting to Ben as it was to his children. Routines made babies feel secure. Watching his bath-fresh, pajamaed children fall asleep made Ben feel secure, too. He knew his place in the world – it was here.

Rey sat down across the kitchen table from, crossing her arms on the table-top and resting her chin on them. That was outside of their routine, and for a moment, Ben thought he was in trouble. “We should have sex.”

Ben swallowed his mouthful of beer, slowly, and then set it down and leaned back in his chair. He was surrounded by spreadsheets and a little baffled. “Tonight?”

“I’m ovulating.” Rey shrugged her shoulders, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Oh.” Ben didn’t know what else to say. “This is… kind of out of the blue.”

Rey made a face. “Not really. It happens about the same time every month.”

Ben laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, I mean – ”

“I know.” Rey interrupted. They’d talked, off-handedly, about trying for a third baby. No concrete plans had been made, but there had been some consensus that Hanna should start school, first.

Ben looked back at the spreadsheets, and then at the gorgeous creature sitting across the kitchen table. She’d propositioned him in a completely unsexy way. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, and, permanently, dark circles. They were both exhausted. If she had her way, in nine months, they’d be even  _more_  exhausted. Still, the idea of scattering his spreadsheets and taking her straight to bed was very appealing – even if they were getting naked because she was ovulating and not because she was feeling particularly frisky. He couldn’t stop the affection from creeping into his voice. “You want another baby?”

“I want another baby.” Rey bit her lip, in the way that always enticed him. “And I know you want a boy.”

***

“Daddy,” Hanna rolled onto her back and rubbed her face with her clenched fist. Ben smoothed her hair over the top of her head, tucking it behind her ears. They were a little big, but he refused to let her hide them behind her curls. He didn’t want her to be self-conscious of them – she was perfect, after all. “When is the baby coming out of Mommy’s tummy?”

Ben’s hand stilled in her hair for a moment. Hanna was perceptive – she knew something was wrong. For three days, he’d fed her macaroni and cheese, which Rey would never allow. He’d fumbled through baths, forgotten to brush teeth, and picked out mis-matched pajamas. For three days, the girls had only gotten bedtime kisses from him. He’d told them that Rey was sick. Tomorrow, he’d explained, he’d take her to the doctor’s office, and they could go to the zoo with their grandmother. He wasn’t quite ready to have this conversation – not with his three-year-old, or with anyone. “The baby isn’t coming out of Mommy’s tummy.”

Hanna peered up at him, her eyes shining in the glow of the night-light. She was full of questions. Rey had shut herself in the bedroom and the questions fell to Ben. “Is he going to stay in there?”

Ben looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars painted on her ceiling. His throat was very dry. He didn’t felt the physical loss, as Rey so acutely did, because it hadn’t been his body that had carried a baby, only to be told, after sixteen weeks and a series of perfect check-ups, that there was no heartbeat. Still, the loss didn’t hurt any less for being intangible.

“The baby’s going to stay in Mommy’s heart.” He said, finally. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

***

Ben went about his own routine that night as best as he could. When he turned off the lights and eased beneath the sheets, he laid on his back in the darkness for a long time. “Can I do anything?”

Rey shook her head, after a moment. He heard the rustle of it on the pillow.

“I love you.” He told her, after another painful silence. There was nothing else he could say. He hoped that would be enough. He looked over at her.

“I don’t want to go to the appointment tomorrow.” Rey sounded hoarse. He hadn’t heard her voice in almost a day. Ben reached across the mattress and found her hand. He squeezed it, reassuringly.

He associated the words _dilation_ and _curettage_ with abortion – with terminating an unwanted pregnancy. It had felt wrong to schedule the operation when this pregnancy was wanted. He hadn’t realized quite _how_ wanted it was until recently. “I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

Rey was silent for a long moment. “I wonder if they’ll be able to tell whether it was a boy.”

An almost-exasperated huff escaped from somewhere in Ben’s chest before he could stop it. He closed the distance between them, tugging his wife into his chest and wrapping his arms around her. “I don’t have to have a boy. I love my girls.” He nuzzled the crown of her head. “All three of them.”

Rey made a soft, snuffling noise into his chest. She didn’t say anything, but he felt the moisture of her tears through his undershirt. “Can they sleep with us tonight?”

One by one, Ben brought them. Hanna woke up and whimpered in his arms, but by the time he brought Cary in, she was asleep again, her face resting on Rey’s chest as if she was still a tiny baby and not a toddler. He tucked Cary into the crook of his arm and reached across both children to rest his hand on Rey’s belly. It was still rounded and would be for some time, even after the procedure. It was a terrible reminder, but one he couldn’t help touching one last time.

Rey put her hand on his and moved it away from her abdomen. “Don’t.”

Ben touched her cheek instead. Her lashes fluttered against his fingers. He was at the edge of the mattress, Cary’s breath tickling his bicep. Hanna was kicking him in the belly. Rey needed her space, both physically and mentally. No matter how cramped and full the bed was, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that their family, no matter how perfect, wasn’t complete.

***

The Hamptons were quiet in late autumn. That was the time Ben liked the beach best – he liked the misty, empty stretches and cold water on his bare feet. His mother had locked up her cottage for the winter already, but she’d given them the key and her blessing to use it.

They had Dr. Kanata’s blessing, too. It had been six weeks. The bleeding and stopped and the swelling had recessed. More importantly, Rey’s smiles had returned to light up his days. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as they walked, holding their shoes, through the surf.

He’d brought a bottle of wine she liked. He only had one glass, but somehow, the bottle was empty by the time they had dessert. She tasted like wine when she kissed him in the kitchen, foregoing the dirty dishes. They made their way into the guest bedroom, unfamiliar with the twists and turns of the house and bumping into walls.

“Wait a second.” Ben kissed her mouth, quickly, as he withdrew from the tangle of her bare arms and legs. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself. He felt like he couldn’t wait a moment longer. “Just a second, I swear.”

He rooted around in his duffel for condoms, stark naked and unashamed. He’d bought them, and the wine, thinking he’d need both. When he turned around, holding one, Rey looked a little crestfallen. Only then did he feel self-conscious. “Doesn’t that kind of defeat the point of this whole weekend?”

Ben shifted on his feet. He tried to think of a tactful way to explain his intentions. They hadn’t had sex since the miscarriage. Physical intimacy wasn’t something he wanted to rush, and having children underfoot meant their sex life was, by definition, _rushed_. He’d brought her to the beach so they could take their time. He’d assumed they would _also_ take their time getting pregnant again, if at all. “The point was to get away together without the kids.”

Rey leaned back against the headboard. “I thought the point was for us to have another kid.”

“Are you ready to do that?” Ben asked, a little uneasy. He saw the look on her face. “No, not _that_. I think we’re both ready for that part.”

Rey ducked her head, smiling. When she lifted her head, she looked more serious. “Dr. Kanata said as long as I’ve had a period, I’m ready to try again.”

Ben looked at the condom in his hand. It was a safeguard against the heartache they’d just experienced. He wasn’t sure he was ready to throw that precaution to the wind yet. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Rey stretched her legs out on the bed. The light caught on the bones in her bare calves, and mesmerized him for a second. “If it happens, it happens. I don’t want to do anything to stop it from happening.”

Ben looked at her for a long moment, and then back at the condom. They had – stupidly – not done anything to stop Hanna from _happening_. She’d been unplanned, and perfect. They’d planned and tried – tried _hard_ – to have Cary. Nothing could have prepared them for the demands of having two children under the age of three.

Maybe Rey was right. Maybe they’d never be ready. Maybe the hurt of losing a pregnancy would never go away. Probably, the fear of losing another one would never go away. He dropped the condom back in the bag and went over to the bed. “If it happens, it happens. But no matter what happens, you have to be okay.”

Rey kissed his forehead as he hovered over her. “We’ll be okay. Whatever happens.”

***

“It happened.” Rey told him, two and a half weeks later, when he came home from the office. She had a dishrag over her shoulder and a look of apprehension on her face.

“Huh?” Ben slung Hanna over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, having a hard time hearing over her giggles. Cary was tugging on his pants leg, crying about something. “What happened?”

***

Ben didn’t enjoy Rey’s fourth pregnancy the way he had her first, second, and briefly, her third. He didn’t sleep well. She slept, but only because the first trimester was exhausting. They didn’t announce their impending addition after twelve weeks, even though Dr. Kanata counseled them that the risk of miscarriage after twelve weeks was very low. They’d been in that slim minority before.

Ben wasn’t superstitious, but he expected the worst for the first sixteen weeks. He flinched every time Rey was unsteady on her feet. He felt a knot form in his belly when her symptoms abated in the second trimester. He didn’t unpack the boxes of Cary and Hanna’s old baby things or broach the topic of moving to a bigger apartment. They didn’t pick out any names together. When they had sex, he didn’t stroke and kiss her belly, enraptured by it. He didn’t whisper bedtime stories to it. He told it, in a hushed voice, to _hold on,_ to _be a tough little bean._

Rey hunched over her stomach when she thought he wasn’t looking, as if she was bracing it for impact, or trying to keep it close. She ate like a nervous bird. She didn’t look down at her burgeoning abdomen with the same expectant joy she’d had before the miscarriage. It wasn’t that she loved this baby any less, Ben knew. It was that she was more afraid to lose this baby. She couldn’t love it wholeheartedly and without reservation. She couldn’t get emotionally attached, even if the baby was attached to her in the most tangible way.

Then, at sixteen weeks, there was still a heartbeat – a strong, steady _thump, thump, thump_ – and Ben could breathe again. He didn’t feel like he had to whisper when he talked to the baby anymore. It – boy or girl, whatever _it_ was, they didn’t want to find out – was real.

***

Ben stopped breathing, _again_ , when Rey was taken into the operating theatre for an emergency caesarian. She’d been in labor for almost forty hours. The baby was in breech, and staying there, stubbornly.

Compared to labor, the operation was remarkably short. Rey’s grip felt far weaker than it had when she’d given birth to Hanna and Cary, but the baby’s screams were just as loud and indignant as its siblings had been. Ben kissed Rey’s sweaty forehead, and then went to cut the umbilical cord and meet his third child.

“Is it a boy?” Rey asked, weakly, trying to look past the surgical curtain.

“No.” Ben started laughing, looking at the sticky, bloody little thing in his hands. He couldn’t possibly be disappointed, not when she’d come into the world healthy and perfect, albeit a bit messy and grumpy. “No, it’s another girl.”

                                                        

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: pregnancy loss
> 
> P.S. Sometimes, you need a break from your WIP to write a one-shot. This may seem like an odd "break" since it's so heavy, but I've wanted to write this for a while. I have never shied away from tough topics, and this is no exception, but I also always write happy endings. The moral of the story is that bad things happen to good people, and good people deserve to be happy even after bad things happen. There's something very cathartic about that.


End file.
